


How's Yer Soul, Mate?

by Squeakyshroom



Category: Video Blogging RPF, idubbbz fandom, maxmofoe- fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Choking Kink, First Time, Humiliation, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Max is one bitter son of a bitch, Pining, Public Blow Jobs, Rutting, Self-Hatred, Verbal Humiliation, and needs Ian to put him in his place, sub/dom themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 08:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12384933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeakyshroom/pseuds/Squeakyshroom
Summary: The first words your soulmate says to you is tattooed on your wrist once you hit puberty; Max doesn't want a tattoo.(This isn't your grandma's soulmate!AU fic. It's filthy.)





	How's Yer Soul, Mate?

Like middle school isn't enough of a cluster it's also the time that most kids get their soulmate marks.

So not only do you have growing body hair and odor and teen angst but now you also have to deal with the retarded shit that's written on your wrist. Max hasn't gotten his, but he already hates it. Or at least that's what he tells anybody who'll listen.

"Soulmate tattoos are the worst. One, they're either vague words like 'hi' that anyone could say to you. Or two, the handwriting is such garbage that you can't figure it out. And instead of living your life to the fullest, everyone just wanders around with their eyes on their wrists, trying to figure out who’s their soulmate. As if that's gonna fill up the empty hole inside of them," Max rants to his friend, Annie, during lunchtime. She shrugs and lightly traces the bracelet covering up her letters.

"Don't you think it's romantic?"

"I think it's a bunch of horse shit that's what I think, and if I get one, I'll get it lazor-ed off."

"As if. Your handwriting is awful, so I bet you're just afraid your soulmate won't be able to read it."

"Nah, I don't want one."

“I bet you do.”

“Nope."

"You’re such a liar, Max," Annie accuses as she picks up her tray to flounce away. Her tattoo is something like 'wow, you look stunning in that red dress.' Annie has worn red dresses since the day she got it, so it's no surprise that her soulmate will meet her while she's in a red dress. Max told her that and she gave him the middle finger. That's the only bit that interests Max about this whole soulmate business. How much is fate and how much is just people making up shit?

He can't ask his parents because...both of their wrists are blank. They met at a special convention for people who have no soulmate tattoos.

 _They're happy enough_ , Max thinks as he looks down at his own blank wrist, _and I can be happy too._

Max browses Reddit forums late at night to confirm that soulmates are trash. There are stories of people whose words were written in another language, and they never found someone to translate. People who discovered their soulmates were married and unwilling to leave their partners for them. People who discovered their soulmate at age ninety nine only to die the next day.

 _I'm better off without this nonsense_ , Max decides as he collapses into bed after a long night of scrolling.

Tomorrow's his thirteenth birthday, and the chance of getting a tattoo after thirteen is less than fifty percent. It's fine. Max doesn't want one.

\---------------

Or so he thinks until he wakes up with a tattoo.

He can't even read it because his vision is blurry with tears. His heart twists with something he hasn't allowed himself to feel for years. Fear? Hope? He doesn't know what it is, but it has him bent over sobbing. He wipes his face, clamps his hand around his right wrist, and takes a deep breath.

Annie was right; Max had been lying to himself about not wanting a soulmate tattoo. He had wanted it so badly that he couldn't even admit it.

Ok, another deep breath.

"Fuck off," Max reads.

That's it. Two words written in all capital letters. He stares at the black print, and his heart falls. Why would his soulmate tell him to 'fuck off?' God, and how will he know who she is?

Bile rises in his throat, and then he's running for the toilet. There's nothing in his stomach, but he has to stay over the toilet, coughing up acidic spit.

"What's wrong?" his mom knocks on his door.

Max squeezes his eyes shut and repeats, "Fuck off."

His mom slams open the door (to beat his ass for cursing at her), but she stops when she sees Max hunched over the toilet. Is his wrist visible from this angle?

"Oh, sweetie," his mother says and drops down to her knees. He doesn't want to do anything embarrassing like cry into her shoulder, but he does it anyways. She comforts him by telling him to look on the bright side- at least it's distinct. Max shakes his head and sniffles.

"What did I...what did I say to her to get her to curse at me? I-imagine what's written on her wrist? I hope she can even read it, my handwriting is god awful.”

“Lemme look,” she says and stares at the letters.

“What?!”

His mother clears her throat, "Max...doesn't the handwriting seem a bit...? Boy-ish?"

"No," he snaps and hugs his wrist to his chest.

“I just mean there are no cursive letters or loopy hearts-”

“Mom, no! It’s not.”

"Well. At least it’s distinct. As soon as they say it to you, you'll recognize them, isn't that right?"

"So I'm supposed to be _mean_ to find my soulmate?"

"What? No, no- well, okay, yes, maybe, but don't be mean, Max. Do you understand?"

Oh, Max understands all right. He's always liked vulgarities, liked the way they felt in his mouth, but now that he has one tattooed on his wrist, he curses like a sailor. To be fair, it's eighth grade and most boys are trying out cursing, and Max is just on a whole 'nother level.

"Pass the stapler, cunt," he whispers to a girl in his math class.

_SLAP_

Max spends the rest of his year with a perpetual red hand print on his face. He only earns himself one "fuck off" from a redhead who finds her soulmate a week later. The teachers only shake their heads and send him to the the Principal. The Principal gives him The Talk and sends Max to the guidance counselor, who gives him another condescending talk about 'staying true to oneself.' But if Max doesn't know who he is...how can he stay true to that?

"You made fun of me for wearing red just cause my soulmate complimented me on it. But now you're cursing just because your soulmate does. Way to be a hypocrite," Annie snorts.

"Fuck off."

"Whatever. Have fun playing Pokemon in detention."

Max is king of detention, and he loves it. He's got everything there he needs: his DS and- oh, no that's it. He wastes so many sweltering evenings up in detention while his classmates run around in the field below that it becomes part of his routine. Sometimes he wishes that he had more friends, but Max has done a great job of isolating himself.

His only escape is trading Pokemon cards with his neighbor until the other boy glimpses his tattoo, laughs, and quips- "ay, mate. You know that's a bloke's handwriting, right?"

Max snatches up his deck and storms away. Why does _everyone_ think that? Not all girls have the same kind of handwriting. Max only likes girls and only wants to kiss girls, so, duh, his soulmate is a girl...right? The niggling doubt that lives in the back of his mind is what scares him the most. Sometimes he will look at a boy, and his stomach will tighten. Sometimes.

By highschool, Max has been teased about the "boy" ish writing enough that he never goes without it covered up by his watch. The thrill of his tattoo is over. When he looks at it, he feels a throbbing hatred. That's it. The only thing the tattoo has ever done for him is get him in trouble.

So Max goes from hating soulmates to briefly hoping for one and now back to hating them again. He's sixteen _and_ Australian, so it’s only natural he hates the whole world. He wouldn't mind if everybody just left him the fuck alone. He frequents Reddit forums like '10 Reasons Why It's Improbable You Will Ever Meet Your Soulmate' or 'I Lazor-ed Off My Tattoo and Am Happier.'

Max trolls 'Soulmate Reveal' videos on Youtube and leaves rude comments. The Youtube trending page is saturated with gushy soulmate success stories because that's what gets clicks. Songs about soulmates always hit the chart, but it’s all fake as fuck. Like...Ed Sheeran’s got fifty five soulmates according to his lyrics. 

When he stumbles upon a community on Youtube that's part 'Gaming' and part 'Anti-Soulmate,’ Max feels like he's found his people. They're all just as bitter as he is. All soulmate-less. He makes a Youtube channel because...why the hell not? All needs is a mic and an opinion.

He's days away from seventeen when he uploads his first video called 'Fuck off, Soulmate.' It's just him ranting for ten minutes in his bedroom while he plays Call of Duty. Max talks about statistical data that proves less than half the population meets their soulmates.

"And to all the people who are gonna comment 'oh! But what would I do without a soulmate? Wah wah.' Listen up, you whiney cunts. My parents both have blank wrists, and are they happy? Yeah, I'd say so. Want to know why? Cause they didn't need Fate to hand them the perfect partner. Nah, they had to make that shit work the old fashioned way."

Max finishes, hesitates, and then presses 'upload.'

He goes to sleep expecting to wake up to a few hundred views, maybe. Max wakes up to a hundred thousand views and hella mixed reviews. Some people tell him to 'love himself' but others thank him for speaking out his trueth. Many of the latter have been fucked over by the media's constant portrayal of soulmates as the 'only way.'

His video has gone semi-viral, and Max is welcomed into the 'Anti-Soulmate' community. His follower count goes up as he continues to make videos. Soon he adds a camera and starts to branch out to reacting to new games instead of just ranting. Still his most popular videos are the ones where he shares his 'un-popular' opinion.

Finally, he's found a place where he belongs. A place where people will listen to him.

Max is done dealing with the Annie's of the world; fuck them and their red dresses.

\---------------

His mother has noticed the change in his attitude. While he tried to explain to her that he wants to be youtuber, like, professionally, she doesn't understand that it's a real career option, no matter how many times he tries. She thinks it's a phase of his -like his detention days- but it's not. Max can't get her to listen, so he starts avoiding her, afraid of the inevitable fight.

"Don’t run upstairs as soon as you get home. Let's talk about your day. Maybe we can have dinner together?"

"Mom, no,” Max groans and rests his head against the railing. “I told you that I gotta edit my video and post-"

"You're spending a lot of time alone. I'm worried. Your father is worried. I haven't seen you go out with friends in ages. Look if this is about your tattoo, I read an article the other day that people with profanities on their wrists are ten times more likely to find-"

"No. God, everything isn't about soulmates! Just because _you_ never got one doesn't mean you gotta obsess over mine!"

His mother goes silent, face white.

Shit.

"Sorry, mom. I didn't mean-"

"No. No, I'm sorry for you. You hate people who are obsessed with soulmates, Max? That's a lot of self hatred.”

“Mom-”

“No, Max. I watched one of those Youtube videos you post and that’s all you ever talk about. It’s sickening.”

"I...I know.”

“You know,” his mother repeats. “But you won’t stop.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both.”

\---------- 

By the time he graduates, Max is making enough on ad revenue that he can move out to his own place with his buddy Chad. His mother doesn't approve but what can she do? She sounds strained and distant on the phone.  

His life settles into a rhythm. Eat. Game. Drink. Masturbate. Sleep. Repeat.

He's living in a dull half-hungover and half-drunken haze. Plus Chad smokes pot so the whole house is covered in a thin white film. One time they're smoking and Max shows Chad his tattoo.

"Dude..." Chad laughs. "That's-"

"Don't."

"I'm just saying! That looks- looks nothing like a girl's handwriting. Like your soulmate might as well have drawn you a dick to go with it. Come on, don't tell me you haven't thought about it?"

"Show me yours," Max demands, and, yeah, Chad's is neat and dainty. It's 'hey there, handsome,' and the feminine letters make him want to puke. Or maybe that's just the weed induced anxiety.

“See the difference?”

"But I don't like guys! Well...I think I don’t.”

Chad raises an eyebrow: "Don't see you going out with girls."

"Nobody ‘goes out’ in this stupid society. Haven't you seen my video rant about soulmates being the death of dating?"

"I didn't say anything about dating, Max. Chillax. Unclench yer tight anus. Lots of girls love to casually fuck while they wait for their soulmates. Go on Tindr...or maybe Grinder. Whatever floats your boat."

"Fuck you. Fuck your advice. All handwriting is inherently gender neutral."

"Okay, easy. Don't get all social justice on my ass."

Max is dizzy. He's worked himself up about nothing. He scratches his fingernails over the fucking letters as if he could rip them off. He can feel another video rant bubbling under his skin.

“I’m never going to find her,” Max says and puts his watch back on. “And I don’t care. I can still be happy.”

“Like your parents?” Chad asks as he takes a strong hit.

“Yes. Well, no. They’re getting a divorce last time I heard.”

“ _Ha_! So much for that. Hey, it’s funny cause Anti’s still quote that part of the video to this day. Kinda ironic, don’t you think?”

“Chad, shut the fuck up.”

“I’m happy, Max, but you? You’re always so tense and defensive about shit. Ready to fight the world. Why’d’ja think that is?”

“Cause suck my dick that’s why.”

Instead of debating or thinking, Max flips open his laptop and puts on his headphones. He scrolls down Youtube's recommended page for something to stop this aching.

Huh- he pauses as he sees a new gaming video from a name he's never heard of.

Idubbbz.

Max clicks on it, and he finds himself laughing. All the rigidness from his shoulders is gone, and, in fact, he's feeling rather relaxed, like he just stepped into a hot shower. He likes the video. It only has 10K views. Max writes an encouraging comment and goes onto the boy’s channel to watch the rest of his videos. Most are boring, but there's something about this Idubbbz guy. He's- Max doesn't have a word for it, but he's sure that he’s going to be the next big thing.

He finds Idubbbz AKA Ian on Twitter and DM’s him.

'Hey! Love ur vids. U deserve more subs' -M

'Thanks! Just starting out.' -I

'The unboxing series? You really have something there.' -M

'You think?' -I

'Fuck yeah' -M

'Ok. I didn't want to come off as a fanboy or anything, but I really love your videos too. Your rant video? Telling people obsessed with soulmates to fuck off? That was the first video I ever watched on Youtube. You’re a legend.' -I

Max's heart skips a beat.

Chad snickers and ribs him: "You're smiling at your screen. Some hot girl from Twitch send you her nudes?"

"No- I just think I met someone," Max says and only realizes what that sounds like afterwards. His heart is beating in his chest as he reads over Ian's message to him. He covers his mouth because he can't stop grinning like a lunatic. The first video Ian EVER watched? Woah. That's crazy. What are the chances?

'I agree btw. Soulmates are cancer. Fuck tats.' -I

'U got one?’ Max stops typing and deletes that. Nope. It's really weird and intrusive to ask a guy you just met if they have a soulmate tattoo. Ian always wears a watch in his videos, but that means nothing. Most people who don't still cover their wrists. It's just the polite thing to do. And why would he care if Ian had one?

Instead, Max types out- 'Glad ur on the side of logic, mate.'

'I'd love to see more Pokemon vids. Your collection looks sick.' -I

Every time Ian compliments him Max gets the strangest fluttering in the pit of his stomach. He stays up all night going back and forth with Ian. He recommends that Ian split off his content into a couple channels to maximize profit. Then Max goes to watch Ian's video again and then again and-

He wakes up with drool all over his keyboard.

After that Max has tunnel vision. All he cares about is when he gets a notification that Ian's posted. His heart is trained to stop as soon as he sees Ian's name buzz on his phone screen. They can't text, since they're in different countries, so they use WhatsApp.

'Waiting for my video to upload makes me want to fucking die' -I

'Same. Wanna assist with my suicide?' -M

'Let's do it together' -I

'Haha couple goals?' -M

Max screams as Chad grabs his phone away from him, reads over his texts, and laughs: "Bro. Just ask him to come to Australia and fuck you. This gay shit's too much."

"Ian's-"

"The sun. The moon. The stars. If I have to hear about how he's the future of Youtube one more time, I'm flying over to America to kick your boyfriend in the balls."

"We're just friends," Max protests, and he's not sure if he's trying to convince himself or Chad. There's a thick tension that Max isn’t imagining, and he’s helpless to the attraction that tugs at his gut. At night, he tries to think of girls. Tits. Hips. Lips. But all that comes to mind is the bulge of Ian's arms. He imagines Ian touching him. Touching his waist. Oh, pulling him closer and then holding him down and choking him-

Wait.

 _What_?

His cock sadly twitches in his still hands. Ian's imaginary fingers are wrapped around Max’s throat, and he’s breathless. He wants them to sink down harder and hold him down. Max- Max wants things he doesn’t understand. Things he doesn't dare to put names to but he feels tugging in the pit of his stomach. He buries his face into his pillow, holds his breath, and imagines Ian's the one forcing him down.

"I-Ian. Please.”

Max feels gross as the cums splatters onto his bed sheets. He whimpers as it drips down his fingertips. It's hard to feel anxious after one's orgasmed but Max manages it anyways.

"Fuck," Max moans and takes in a deep breathe. He's never imagined a real person when jacking off. Let alone another dude. Let alone Ian. He exhales and collapses.

Max wakes up sticky and annoyed. He rolls over to see that he's slept until eleven. He makes himself a Tindr and then deletes it all in the span of twenty painful minutes. He clearly needs to fuck a hot babe, so what's stopping him?

He distracts himself by trolling online but all he wants to do is go back and watch another video of Ian. This isn't healthy. He groans and hides his face in his hands. This is some next level shit. Now he’s imagining it again, and he’s semi. Max adjusts himself through his sweats and screams into his pillow. Sexual frustration level? Over one thousand.

Max sets up a camera and starts ranting because it makes him feel better: "You know that one fantasy you have that you get off to? But it's not-not like you want it to be real or whatever. Take some chicks, they love to write stories about getting raped but most of them don't actually want that shit to happen, right? It's just a fantasy. So last night...I found this one fucked up fantasy I didn't even know I had, and it doesn't mean I want it to be real. It just is what it fucking is."

Ian messages him ten minutes after the video goes live- 'What fantasy?'

He bites his thumb and squeezes his leg together. To lie or nah?

'Nothing.' -M

'Secret furry fetish?' -I

'Yeah. U got me, bro. I've been dreaming about fucking a giant hamster' -M

'Tell me.' -I

'Ok....what do u think about sub/dom shit?’ -M

‘Hot. Be more specific.’ -I

‘Choking?' -M

'Nice. Done it to a couple girls.' -I

Oh shit, Max's stomach twists. Ian's done it before? He hates himself for getting excited, so he tries to change topics. His mind keeps flashing to Ian’s big bulging arm muscles...how they’d feel wrapped around his neck and- no. Stop.

'U dating a girl that’s into that?' -M

'Nah. Like you said...soulmates fucked up dating. I gave up on finding mine years ago. Best decision ever. Now I have more time to concentrate on making videos.' -I

'Why?' -M

He flushes when he realizes how desperate he sounds. Wow, he really needs to tone down his needy levels. Hopefully Ian hasn't noticed.

'If u don't want to talk about it, I'll fuck off.' -M

'It's fine. It’s not really a sad story? My tattoo’s just shit.' -I

'I can’t read the handwriting, so I don’t know what it says lmao.’ -I

'Oh. Some chicks got messy handwriting, huh?’ -M

'Pretty sure it’s a dude.’ -I

Max drops his phone.

There's bile in the back of his throat but he swallows it back. His hands are shaking like he's thirteen and just read his tattoo. It doesn't mean anything, does it? That the first video Ian watched was Max's? That Max’s handwriting is messy as shit? That it looks like a boy’s writing?

'Gay, huh?' -I

'Really gay,' Max types, but his face is white. He gets up and stretches and paces, waiting to hear his phone buzz. It's silent for a full minute before it goes off again.

'Your video made me give up on finding soulmate. I'd been so obsessed and miserable for the last couple years. I even thought about ending it.' -I

Max bites his lip, and feels angry at this punk ass bitch for having such shit handwriting. Ian doesn’t deserve this. Any of it.

‘I’m REALLY glad u’re still here’ -M

‘Like at this point the only thing that will one HUNDRED percent make me smile is seeing u. I can’t explain it but seeing ur face does things to me that r just ????? -M

‘DON'T U EVER DARE STOP. FUCK THAT SCRIBBLY ASS TATTOO CAUSE I FUCKING LOVE U.’ -M

_Oops, that's a bit too much._

‘no homo’ -M

‘shit what do I do with my erection now that you’ve played the no homo card?’ -I

‘Come to Aussie no homo’ -M

‘to fuck you so hard it hurts no homo?’ -I

‘pls no homo.’ -M

‘Need to be choked no homo?’ -I

‘If ur offering. Yes no homo.’ -M

‘Cool no homo.’ -I

‘No homo, homo.’ -M

‘Not a single fucking homo, but I’d like to bend you over the table and fuck your tight little Australian ass so hard you can’t even remember what your soulmate tattoo says. Wanna fuck you so hard you can’t ever orgasm properly without me inside of you no homo.’ -I

Max forgets how to breathe as arousal lazily curls up in the pit of his stomach. Okay, he really hopes Ian’s being serious.

‘(Ok but forreal pls come to Australia. I’ll pay for your tickets. You can stay in my house.)’ -M

‘((forreal forreal I want to see you)))’ -I

‘(((I like you, cunt)))’ -M

‘((((shhh not so loud or we’ll have to bring back the no homos but...I like you too))))’ -I

 _Maybe he's the one_ , a small voice in the back of his head whispers as he reads over Ian's text and palms himself over his sweats.

Or maybe Max is turning his blatant thirst into something deeper. He is just having a sexuality crisis. That’s it. There’s nothing more to this than the arousal pressing against his sweatpants. He snaps a picture of his bulge before he can think it through and sends it to Ian. Too far?

It’s a risky move that makes Max’s cock ache in anticipation. He doesn’t dare stroke himself as he waits for a reply.  

But then Ian hits him back with a thirty second video of his long fingers slipping under his grey boxers and touching himself. Max’s mouth is dry. He can’t believe they’ve just gone from zero to one hundred.

‘Show me more yes homo’ -M

‘Show me yours, I’ll show you mine’ -I

Max slips out his cock and tries to get a good angle. Dicks aren’t great cinematic subjects. He switches from photo to video.

“Ian,” he moans as he rubs his length, hips jerking up to chase the pleasure. Then he hits send.

‘Your voice saying my name....’ -I

‘Shitshitshitshit.’ -I

‘I need to be in Australia yesterday.’ -I

‘And do what?’ -M

‘Smack you for asking stupid questions.’ -I

‘Maybe I’m into u smacking me around.’ -M

‘I know you are, you masochistic bitch.’ -I

‘Then afterwards I’d pin you down so fast you’d be breathless, not even able to open those slutty little lips and moan my name.’ -I

Max loves that he’s making Ian lose his mind with just a little clip. He flips the camera up, so he’s filming his flushed face. Max bites his red lip and squeezes his eyes shut with bliss. He lets out a strangled moan so Ian knows he’s still touching himself. _Send_

‘The angle. Nice.’ -I

‘Like ur down on ur knees, sucking me off.’ -M

‘Mh, think I’d like to see your lips on me first. That’s all I think about when I watch your videos. Think about how god shouldn’t be allowed to give a boy such perfect cock sucking lips.’ -I

‘Want ur big hands in my hair, pulling, while I wrap my wet lips round u.’ -M

‘Show me what’d you do to me.’ -I

He moves the camera, so it’s filming from above now. Max opens up his red lips, hits play, and then takes two fingers inside his mouth. His cheeks hollow as he sucks down and pretends to fuck his own mouth. Slide in. Slide out. Slide in. Max feels stupid, sure, but he only cares about looking nice and pretty for Ian. He wants Ian to imagine Max down on his knees, taking his cock. He lets a little of saliva hang on his fingers as he pulls them out of his wet lips with a ‘pop.’

 _Send_.

Max is panting now, tongue poking out. He wipes away the strand of saliva connecting his mouth to his finger tips. He’s painfully erect, ignored cock hard against his soft tummy.

‘Oh wow. U sure I’ll be ur first???’ -I

‘Because that expert technique makes me think loads of boys have filled up that pretty Aussie mouth with their load.’ -I

Max squirms at the teasing: ‘nah.’

‘Oh, natural? Looks like you were made to be down on your knees, Max, sucking my cock.’ -I

‘More. Pls insult me more.’ -M

He flushes and reaches down to stroke himself. He’s panting and squirming as he watches Ian type. Max’s impending orgasm makes his stomach tighten at the same time his naked toes curl.

‘Such a slut for it. Hope ur soulmate finds these texts and punishes you for being such a greedy slut, Max. Hope they take you over their knee and spank you until your red and squirming. They’ll know you like to be degraded, and they’ll degrade you like the dirty boy you are.’ -I

Precum bubbles from the tip of his cock. Max swipes the bead down his length. _Ah_. Ah, he’s so close as he pumps up and down. Ian’s still typing.

‘And I want to cum all over your tattoo. Take a picture and post it for all your fans to see, so they know who really owns you.’ -I

Max presses play just as his orgasm hits, and his cum splatters over the curve of his tummy. He’s panting hard and he whispers ‘I’d like that Ian. I’d like for you to do all those things to me and more. Anything. Everything.’

_Send._

How did they go from choking to soulmate tattoos to suicidal thoughts to.. _this_?

Max is in love, if that’s still a thing.

\-------

They don’t ever talk about the possibility of being soulmates, but it’s heavy on his mind as Ian’s trip edges closer and closer. Why can Max admit he loves to be verbally degraded but not that he wants Ian to be his soulmate? Classy.

Chad teases him endlessly: “So you mean Ian doesn’t know what his tattoo says cause of shit handwriting and YOU have shit hand writing? You both felt an instant connection? You even paid for his ticket. I mean...for someone who hates soulmates it seems like-”

“Don’t.”

“It seems like-”

“SHUT UP, YOU FAT CUNT!”

“He’s the one.”

“No, he isn’t, and if you ever even insinuate that in front of him. I’ll- I’ll-”

“Lose your Youtube brand as the saltiest most single motherfucker?”

“Die,” Max spits and gives him a double middle finger. He has to leave now and pick up Ian. Oh god, this is it. This is it.

He prepares for the worst. It’ll be awkward. Ian won’t say anything, and the words won’t be his. Oh no, not a chance. It will be someone else’s illegible scribbles, not his.

Max arrives at the airport with not enough strength in him to do anything but sprawl onto the waiting seats by the EXIT. He messages Ian where he is and then scrolls twitter. Scrolls and scrolls. Anything to stop his mind from wandering to the forbidden best case scenario. He won’t let his wicked mind indulge in that bull shit. Nope.

He spots Ian first, and his whole body sings. Max’s smiling wide and springing to his feet as he screams-

“Over here, ya fooking cunt!”

Ian turns around, waves at him and casually calls, “Fuck off.”

And it’s all Max can do to not puke in excitement because those are his words. His words! And Max throws caution and his plan to the wind because the little boy inside of him is screaming. He’s flushed red, internally screaming _it’s him._

Max runs and jumps - _jumps_!- into Ian’s arms.

They both collapse with an ‘ompf’ and now they’re making a scene in the middle of the fucking airport. Max is on top of Ian’s lap and bouncing and kissing his face. Forehead. Nose. Left cheek. Right cheek. Mouth. Everything.

“Woah! _Woah_ , down, boy,” Ian laughs and holds him back with one hand. He’s panting and looking up at Max like he’s his favorite puppy. Max wants to touch him all over. Lick him all over. Everything over and over and over and over.

“It’s you,” Max whispers, and it’s crazy that he knows Ian is his...but Ian doesn’t yet know. The poorly restrained secret flutters in his stomach as he nuzzles his face into Ian’s neck. He’s incapable of explaining.

“Yeah. Me. God, _wow_. Max, I expected a greeting but this is- okay, you’re still on top of my dick. Come on up, buddy. Up. Now,” Ian orders and Max’s ears perk up at that authoritative tone. Oh, he could get used to being ordered around like that.

Max gets up, but he’s still plastered over Ian, peppering him with affection. He doesn’t give a shit if people think it’s gay, all of this is. Ian’s here and real and that’s what’s important. Max would shut down his channel -which he might have to after this- just to keep Ian here. Anything.

“Shhh, Max. You’re- okay, yes that’s my ass. You found it. Now, why are you acting like this is your first time meeting a real life person?”

“It’s you!”

“Yes, I’m me-- Ian. And you’re Max.”

“No, _YOU_! You said the fucking words, and I didn’t want to think you said it but you did, and now it means- it means-”

“You’re hyperventilating. Ok, let’s go to the bathroom.”

Ian takes his hand and leads him. Max lets him splash water on his face and rub his back. He takes a sip. Inhale. Exhale.

“Better?” Ian asks softly, and his hands are on Max’s waist.

“Mh, fuck yeah it is better. So much better,” Max sighs as he wraps his hands around Ian and hugs him so tight. “I lied. I’ve been lying when I said I didn’t want this. This is all I’ve ever wanted, and I just kept lying and lying, so I didn’t have to admit it hurt like a bitch. So I could pretend I wasn’t so alone.”

“What? Lying about what?”

“That I didn’t want one. That I’d be okay never finding it.”

Ian pulls back and stares at him: “Wait. What? Who?”

“ _You_ , genius.” Max says simply and leans in to peck him on the lips. “My soulmate.”

“W-woah! Since when?!”

“Since you said my words five minutes ago. ‘Fuck off.’”

“But- but you still don’t know.”

Max rolls his eyes: “I know.”

Ian’s hands are trembling and he struggles to get his watch off. Max nods and reverently rubs his fingertip against his own awful handwriting on Ian’s skin.

“Over here, you fucking cunt,” Max reads out loud and squeezes Ian’s wrist.

“You- you have the shittiest handwriting of ALL time.”

“I’m a piece of shit.”

“So shit,” Ian groans against his lips, and he’s walking him back towards the bathroom stall, not caring how public this all is.

“Is our first time really going to be an airport bathroom?”

“It’s your fault for having such pretty eyes and- and ridiculously soft hair and those fucking lips. How the fuck did anyone think you were straight with your lips looking like they were made to suck cock?” Ian pants between kisses. The hint of verbal degradation has Max’s cock swelling up against his jeans. He’s so needy and pliant in Ian’s hands, like he’s been waiting for this all this life.

“I’m a virgin,” Max admits, and, fuck, he’d only ever admit that to Ian. It’s so fucking humiliating being 21 years old and never having gotten your dick wet, but he knows that Ian wouldn't judge him. Ian just smiles -eyes kindly glinting behind his glasses- and kisses his red cheek.

“ _Good_. I don’t want anyone else having a piece of your cute little ass,” Ian says and squeezes Max’s ass for emphasis. Max hasn’t ever had someone touch him like this, and he squeezes his thighs together, afraid he’s going to come all over himself like the virgin he is.

Then Ian’s cocking his finger down and ordering him to ‘get on his knees.’ _Wow_. Max never knew he wanted to be ordered around like this before Ian. Ian orders him like he’s used to being obeyed, and the cockiness makes his poor cock swell with need.

Max obediently goes down to his knees and undoes Ian’s belt before he even registers the weight of what he's doing. His whole world has gone pleasurably hazy like he’s just smoked a fat one. Honestly? Max is already addicted to how Ian touches him-- like he’s the most precious thing in the world. His eyes flutter as Ian pets his hair.

“Fuck, you look- Max, you look-” Ian chokes as Max slowly unzips his khaki’s.

“Like a bitch?”

Ian just shakes his head, like he’s suddenly lost the ability to speak. Max is glad for the warm buzz of their soulmate connection that tells him just how good he’s making Ian feel. He always swore the connection was bullshit, but he can feel it throbbing between them as he strokes Ian. Max’s own erection pulses in time with Ian’s as he strokes his hand down Ian’s length. Wow, it feels like a phantom hand is touching him right now.

“Good?” Max asks even though he can feel how tight Ian’s hand is in his hair, even though he can see how bliss-ed out Ian’s eyes are.

“Less talking, more sucking.”

He’s never had another man’s cock in his mouth. Never known the weight of it on his tongue. But for Ian, Max is breaking all of his rules. He’s down on his knees like some little bitch, sucking the cock of a man he’s never met, degrading himself for what’s essentially a stranger. Except Ian doesn’t feel like a stranger; there’s nothing strange about how Ian’s looking down at him. If anything, Max feels like this is the most natural thing he’s ever done.

“You’re so fucking good. God your mouth is so- so warm and wet, and your lips are, oh god, your lips are heaven. I t-take back everything I ever said about soulmates. God, I was so fucking wrong; you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Max likes the praise almost as much as the abuse but not as much. He looks up at Ian through his lashes, and he tries to silently project his need. Ian’s eyes become a little glazed before he shakes his head and starts again.

“Such a fucking slut for me, Max. Such a nice little whore,” Ian’s voice rumbles, and Max moans around Ian’s cock at the pleasurable abuse. How nice to have someone who knows your desires almost as intimately as yourself. They’re so insync that Max can feel Ian’s orgasm, knows to pull away, so Ian can cum all over his pink, parted lips.

“Look so pretty covered in my cum. How’d your followers like to see you on a dirty bathroom floor? Looking like nothing but my little whore?”

“You- you got a fucking filthy mouth; know that, right?

“And you love it, you little faggot.”

“Your little faggot,” Max says with a grin and his cock throbs in approval as he wipes away the spunk and licks it off his palm.

Then Ian’s lowering the toilet seat and pulling Max up onto his lap.

Oh wow. Max has never been held like this since he was a little boy. Something about Ian makes him feel much younger and sweeter than he usually is. With anyone else, he would be bristly and rude. But with Ian? He let’s himself be small and safe.

“You like that I’m holding you,” Ian summarizes, and Max shivers as he realizes that Ian can feel him just as well through their growing bond. It’s like every minute they spent pressed skin to skin the stronger it grows.

“Can you believe I made a video titled ‘why there’s no such thing as a bond?’” Max laughs as he wraps his arms around Ian’s neck and hides his face there. Ian smells like a boy, and Max is shocked to realize that he likes that about Ian. He likes how he’s a boy.

“I’m sure your haters will be happy to know, your mouth is better at taking dick than forming arguments.”

“Fuck off,” Max giggles and he tenderly strokes his tattoo. When he touches it, Ian shivers against him. This bond thing is no joke.

“Nah, I’d rather fuck you.”

“You better,” Max simpers as he kisses Ian’s neck. Ian rubs his back -up and down- and Max hates that the simple friction of their jeans together will be enough to get him to come.

The bathroom door opens and Max freezes. He draws his legs up, so only Ian’s are visible. He holds his breath as he listens to someone whistling and pissing. It shouldn’t be sexy -cause ew- but Ian’s holding him to his chest so tight that Max can’t breath. He can imagine how those strong arms will choke him later tonight. He won’t have to imagine it soon enough.

Ian’s chest softly vibrates with laughter as he puts his lips to Max’s ear: “You do know you're projecting images of me choking you into my head? You’re so lucky that I’ve had lots of practice choking bitches.”

The mocking words make Max’s hips involuntarily thrust forward in Ian’s lap. He squeezes his eyes shut and holds his breath, not wanting to get caught in this position. But now Ian’s sending him images of Max stripped naked -wrists tied to the post of the bed- and Ian fucking him open. He squeezes his legs together as he feels Ian’s phantom cock working him open, one thrust at a time. How can it feel so real? Max can barely hold back a whimper.

“ _Shh_ , not so loud, baby,” Ian hums into his ear, and his deep voice sounds a helpless shiver down Max’s spine. He ruts forward to relieve the tension in his jeans. His poor cock is dripping with need, and with the way that Ian’s holding him? Oh fuck, he’s not going to make it.

The door closes and the man is gone.

Max sighs in relief and begins to grind against Ian for real.

“I feel like I’m fucking around with some chick in high school, trying not to get caught by my mom.”

“Like your virgin ass knows anything about fucking,” Ian teases as he tightens his hold around Max. He’s holding him so tight that Max can barely draw in a breath. He’s dizzy with desire, and Max fucking loves how helpless he is. How Ian has complete control over him in this moment. The only thing he has is the slow drag of his hips up and down.

“That’s it, princess,” Ian whispers encouragement. “That’s it. Just let it all out now.”

Max chokes at the mocking little ‘princess.’ He’s never liked nicknames, but the word is so nice and degrading that it pushes him right over the edge. He cums with a helpless gasp right in Ian’s lap. Back arching. Toes curling.

“Fuck, I can’t believe it,” Max says. “After all this time I found you, and now...”

“You're mine."

“Yours,” Max agrees, flushing once more. He hides his face in Ian’s shoulder and projects all the love and warmth over their bond.

“Okay, but forreal how are we going to tell our followers this shit?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

\------------

‘MY SOULMATE TOLD ME TO FUCK OFF (NOT CLICKBAIT)’

Views: Ten Million

Top comment: ‘Well, this is the plot twist of the century. I mean if Maxmoefoe can find love, there’s hope for all of us.’

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**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyy! I'm back! 
> 
> Mean't to post this months ago but never got the ending scene right. Thanks for the wait and please leave a comment if you enjoyed this filth. Oh, also I don't use my old drag queen Tumblr so message me on my new Rick and Morty blog (@qweensummer)


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